Forward
by loveoverpride
Summary: Canon. A two-parter. He moved to Vermont, while she's still in Washington. Their plan was to keep things moving, but they've hit a major wall. (Based on a prompt request I received.)


_For Dee. She sent me a prompt **months** **ago** (Canon...Summertime in DC. Fitz is visiting for the week, but Olivia is working a lot at her part-time job, and he feels neglected)... I've been slowly working on it._

_Here's part one._

* * *

It all began with two weeks. The promise of being normal, having fun, and not giving a fuck. All of the excitement they felt on the campaign trail and working side by side, returned. So much laughter. Everything felt lighter. It was a relief to be with each other.

Then, as he walked to the helicopter, she ran across the lawn, into his arms. In front of everyone. Kissing him like she was going to lose him all over again. But, instead, they opted for the high road. A different path that strayed from confusion. It was all he wanted. She chose him. He did the same. They were going to be together.

The world wasn't going to stop for a crisis manager and a former President, just because they made the personal choice to move forward and aim for a healthy relationship. In a six month span, Olivia and Fitz were doing their best to make quality time happen. On paper, it appeared to be successful. Coordinating travel schedules. Turning off the phone or at least putting it on mute when they were in each other's presence. Talking about honest topics, and confiding in one another.

At one point, the plan was Vermont. After all the drama ended, they'd move up to the house he built for her. Olivia still believed in Fitz's dream. She dreamed of a life away from politics, backstabbing, and chaos, in the Green Mountain State. It would have been amazing, but Fitz knew better. She still had more to do in Washington. They agreed to that.

He also suggested she find a new place, but she never took the time to actually pursue Zillow, Redfin, or drive around to look. Where she was, it was "safe", even with the horrendous and stressful memories attached to her apartment.

Lately, there had been roadbumps. Their jobs required more of them. While Fitz's work with his foundation increased, sending him to preach the good news of justice all over the country, Olivia applied for a part time job at a new firm, and it was going well. Hours at the office equated to hours away from home, which was probably a good thing. But it was taking a toll.

When loneliness rose, she'd call. Sometimes Fitz couldn't answer because of the stacked agendas his staff had organized. On the flipside, when he had time to talk, he was sent straight to voicemail. A text would arrive, hours later, explaining how sorry she was that their availability didn't match.

When they did connect, their words were rushed, forcing out trivial details to keep the conversation going. Extremely awkward, to say the least.

The busy led to distance. They weren't trying to fall away, but at the same time, they weren't stopping the active retrograde.

To assuage friction, Olivia gave Fitz a key to the apartment, so he wouldn't have to stay at a hotel whenever he came to the city.

There had to be some kind of normalcy, but nothing was quite clicking.

They were still living in their own worlds.

* * *

On a Monday night, when she arrived home around seven o'clock, Olivia jumped in her heels, startled to find Fitz lounging on the couch.

"Holy shit!"

Fitz turned around, in horror, because she was frightened.

"I didn't mean to scare you, baby."

Pressing her hand to her chest, she faintly smiled, "It's alright. I wasn't paying attention."

"Hi."

"Hi."

Fitz stood, crossing to the tiny foyer. Olivia sighed, lifting her chin, so they could share a quick kiss.

"What are you doing here?"

He cocked his head, showing off his famous crooked grin, "It's my week, remember?"

"Wow," she rubbed her forehead, "definitely slipped my mind."

She wasn't lying. The days were blending, and when that happened, she was rarely home, and not actually writing things outisde of work down. So, unless he reminded her, she never kept track.

"How was work?"

"Busy! I got a proposal that I need to work on and that's going to keep me up all night. How about you?"

"About the same. The usual. Trying to change the world, one person at a time," he replied, keeping his eyes on her. "You look like you need to relax. Come sit with me."

Olivia began to walk towards her room, "Let me go change first."

"It's okay, I want to hold you real quick. Just so happy to see you."

With a sigh, she dropped her purse on the coffee table, plopping on the couch so they could cuddle. He knew what she needed. Usually.

As always, they ended the first night with alcohol, smooth jazz, and lots of good sex. Physically, they were bonding, but mentally not always connected. The phrase everyone used about them — being in sync — was not relevant anymore. It was hard to admit, but Olivia and Fitz did not actively communicate about the nitty gritty, the lifeline of their relationship. Where were they going? And why weren't they able to move pass their old, toxic habits?

* * *

"So, I bought tickets to the new movie. Midnight showing."

"When?"

They were finishing up dinner, and an enthusiastic Fitz had shared plans.

"Thursday night, technically, Friday morning."

Olivia shook her head, "I can't make it."

Fitz's brows knitted, before asking, "I thought you had Thursday and Friday off?"

"We have a case that will be kicking our asses and they need me to be there."

"I thought this was a part-time job."

He knew. She had to keep herself busy, and if that meant overextending herself, taking more of a workload to ignore what was really going on, she would.

Olivia interjected, "It is. I just couldn't get out of it. Sorry."

Softly, he sucked his teeth, which annoyed the shit out of her. It was always too loud.

"What?"

Instead of answering, he gulped down the rest of his water. She reached for his hand, hoping it would suffice.

"Fitz."

"Don't _Fitz _me," he retorted, leaving the table, grabbing their plates. "You told me we were going to try."

Olivia's voice deepened, "I am trying."

"That seems like an understatement," Fitz answered sarcastically. "It never seems like you're trying. You fucking forgot I was visiting you, but now I'm thinking you overbooked yourself on purpose."

"Seriously?"

"When was the last time you came to Vermont?"

He had a point. Nothing ever worked out for her to get away for more than twelve hours.

"You know how busy I am. Why can't you give me wiggle room, Fitz?"

He scoffed, blowing her off, as he left for the kitchen.

Olivia's nostrils flared. "You know what? Fuck you. We knew there were going to be hits and misses. But I still have to work and support myself. I don't have a cushion like you do."

"Your point?"

Taking a moment to collect herself, she poured more wine into her glass, her go-to, to help simmer down because she knew it would get worse if she didn't shut her mouth. But it only gave her more fuel to speak her mind. "To remind you that life doesn't stop because we want it to. Did you really think once your main job was over, everything would be normal? Who gave you that idea, Mr. Optimistic?"

Everything in Fitz's path was an object to be thrown, pushed to the side, or dumped. He slammed the refrigerator door, then tossed a container in the sink.

"Well?"

"What are you trying to say," he offered, sounding so defeated.

"I want this to work, and you know I love you, but you assumed everything would change overnight. I'm still here and you were able to leave all of this behind. We have to think about this realistically, since we're no longer in the White House."

Olivia was ready to continue, but with a heavy gait, Fitz returned with a mission, stepping to her, with more annoyance in his voice.

"Stop talking about us like we are a transaction or a fucking business deal! We are living, breathing people, Liv! We have emotions and we care about each other. I mean, I assume we do."

Olivia flinched.

"When are you going to stop wasting time doing this? Stop talking to me like I'm your client."

"That's how I think! I think analytically. Don't guilt trip me because this is how I am. You're the one putting more pressure on this. That's annoying."

Fitz crossed his arms, "I thought it was going to be different this time."

"I gave you the new key. Doesn't that count for something?"

It was a harsh blow and they both knew it. After she was kidnapped, Olivia was more cautious of who was allowed into her space. That included Fitz. In two years since that fateful day, she never gave him access. The key appeared to be a big deal, but it was just another way to quickly shut him up. She knew he knew.

Feeling contrite, Olivia pulled her lightweight cardigan around her slim frame, trying to protect herself.

Fitz's gaze fell to the ground. Looking back at her, he only said, "Okay."

"Okay? What do you mean by that?"

She was expecting Fitz to continue the argument because that's what they did — keep bickering, spewing facts and opinions because they knew each other so well — until they arrived to a practical solution, albeit temporary. Or, take the other route, letting emotions rise and fall, until they were so drained, they couldn't do anything else but look into each other's eyes, allowing the intense magnetism, gifted by the universe, to drive them into a passion-filled kiss.

But neither happened. No pushback or interruptions. Her jaw dropped as she watched him storm off to the bedroom.

* * *

_Part two coming soon. _


End file.
